Loud inside the lamppost shells,
Accompanied by a harmonious hum
Of wind whooshing,
Rushing through the reeds
Atop the white transit vans:
Speeding home and sputtering off,
The dust of a day.
The bass of piston and petrol drum,
Sits beneath the beauteous cacophony,
The wringing wiring and harmonious hum:
This moment the world,
Singing such a perfect song;
For a day that is almost done.
This music so sweetly sounded
On a blustery early Autumn eve,
In front of a setting Summer sun.
My heart floats so light,
And calling loud, begs the encore;
'Play on, play on.'